


that’s streaming, buddy.

by flustraaa



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxious Sokka (Avatar), Anxious Zuko (Avatar), Bisexual Disaster Sokka (Avatar), Engineer Sokka (Avatar), Eventual Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Gen, M/M, Oblivious Sokka (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar) Has ADHD, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko's Scar (Avatar), no beta we die like jet, really gonna milk that tag for 3 chapters guys, twitch streamer sokka, twitch streamer zuko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 11:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30054504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flustraaa/pseuds/flustraaa
Summary: “okay, so you’re telling me hot coffee shop boy— has been your best friend this entire time— and has also been my close friend, who is also my favourite streamer?”(or,the one where i simply could not help myself. twitch streamer auor,“where are we headed, buddy?”“straight to hell, buddy.” )
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Sokka & Suki (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Suki & Zuko (Avatar), Suki/Yue (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 47





	that’s streaming, buddy.

**Author's Note:**

> this is so incredibly not my usual niche of “shove every classical reference, bad thought, and emotion you’ve ever felt into this”. anyways, this is set in a world where there is zero panorama (for legal reasons i know it’s a pandemic), but humour me.

It all starts with a quiet dare— the final nudge from his best friend to make a twitch account and stream games here and there after work. 

It’s not long, however, before Sokka’s account takes off— and suddenly, he’s playing lobbies for games ranging from Minecraft, to Among Us, to raft, to Call of Duty, to Phasmophobia to— well, hopefully he’s established the scenario. 

As it turns out, what once started as a faceless career, quickly changed to a public one, when he hit a cool two million subscribers on youtube, and three million followers on twitch. 

All it took was a quick, shoddily-edited video, spliced together on his YouTube. He sits down on the couch with a heavy sigh, with Bruin shoving his face into Sokka’s knee and leaving trails of slobber along his owner’s ripped jeans. 

He sends the camera a careful wave, out of character and shy as he introduces himself for the first time— as more than just the handle _@boomerwangfire_. 

He relaxes slightly, taking a deep breath that will later be cut out. “Hey, I’m Boomerwangfire, but you can call me Sokka— like, with an -okka. It’s nice to meet you guys. Thank you for being here today.” 

And for some reason, his account doesn’t die off— he starts doing interviews with groups of people that he wants to amplify the voices of. He does the videos that he binged growing up, and he meets people that he never would have had he stayed solely in his engineering firm. 

He hand plucks information to share, “no, I will not share my last name— but, yes, I’m twenty four, and I will occasionally hint that I’m working on my first PhD.” 

But then— like a Phoenix from the ashes, a new faceless star is born. 

[ _Sokka loves him, Sokka loves him not— except he totally does_ ].

The first time Sokka meets him— him being the blue spirit (all lowercase for that quirky impact), is in an anxiety-inducing Among Us lobby. All of his friends are screaming in his ears, and he kind of wants to die— but only because he’s awake on three cans of red bull and pure spite. 

He’s sitting in an Among Us lobby, fiddling with a random pen from his desk, listening to Suki and Yue’s heated discussion on what the best flavour of ice cream is (Yue is lobbying hard forBlue Moon, and Suki is one dig on her preference for raspberry chocolate chip away from throttling Yue through the screen). 

“Hey, guys.” Sokka asks, after the chatter has calmed, “we’re still two short. Are those filled?” 

“Course!” Teo answers easily, “Haru’s logging on, and I think Suki invited the blue spirit. Like the one with the voice and the whole no face thing.” 

“Oh,” Sokka blurts, leaning back in his chair, “sick.” 

Apparently, in terms of literally almost vibrating from nerves— the blue spirit isn’t much better off. His icon appears, and Suki immediately brings attention to the new dude in the lobby. 

“Hey! Blue!” Suki calls, because Suki is Sokka’s best friend but is also apparently a close friend of Blue’s. Sokka isn’t jealous. Not at all. Sharing is caring. “Can we get an introduction, and literally anything but an Owa-Owa?”

There’s a nervous chuckle, and— oh, yeah, Sokka’s brain goes fuzzy, “hey— um, I’m blue— like from @thebluespirit.”

And as it turns out, this smooth-voiced motherfucker has a fucking seventy billion IQ and six-point-five GPA.

“Do you have a sibling named Red?” Sokka mumbles, before slapping a hand over his mouth at the unintentional pun (handpicked by the Spirits, he may add). 

And for a moment, he fears he scared the poor guys— but then, there’s a quiet snort and a soft response of, “no, my mom just liked Blue’s Clues a little too much, I guess.” 

Cue them getting their asses handed to them on a golden platter by faceless man, and one night of Suki Ito playing Blue’s new EP. 

The importance? Well, it leaves Sokka shitting himself on site because, of course, this dude is and incredible player, and has a nice singing voice too. 

[ _Sokka loves him, Sokka— yeah, no, he loves him. The Gods have favourites, and he thinks Blue might be one of them_ ]. 

But then, there’s the whole ordeal surrounding mystery guy, who literally shows up at the same cafe on the exact days Sokka does— perched in the back corner booth. His hand is almost always anxiously combing through his inky black hair, pair of glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls notes in an orderly line. 

He looks old enough to be a grad-student, maybe a PhD or MD student— which, Sokka’s not sure, but his brain is definitely not functioning much beyond: “pretty boy, every day. Mmmm pretty boy, mmmm.” 

So— yeah, that’s so sexy of he, himself, and there is not another form of that word to use but the point has been made. He is sexy and he knows it— cue the two-thousand-and-eleven roller-skating rink top twenty hits. 

Anyways. Back on track. 

[ _Has he taken his Ritalin today? He cannot remember— should he go check his daily pill containers, maybe_ ]. 

Today, he’ll order a vanilla latte because he refuses to drink black coffee and succumb to adulthood fully. 

And in what is the most terrifying ten seconds of his week, he’ll make some awko-taco eye contact over the lid of his mug with cute corner boy™, and follow up with a wink. 

Ten steps later, he’s out of sight and has to catch his breath because what the fuck was that? Sokka the simp— the shrimp. He is shrimping, and he is shrimping _hard_. 

But back to the present. 

“That was— wow. We— wow. We just got our shit rocked in one round.” Sokka leans back in his chair, pushing his hair from his eyes, and listening as the group descends into chaos. 

“I told you I was the imposter!” Blue retorts, though there’s something timid hidden in his voice, “I point-blank told you!” 

“I didn’t think you were serious!” Yue wheezes a laugh somewhere in the back, and Sokka distantly wonders if she ended up ordering her new inhaler after their indoor rock climbing session. 

Haru groans, rubbing his temples with his index fingers, “That sounds like an us problem, now.” 

“Good game, man,” Sokka gawks, after breaking free from his stupor. “I mean like— goddamn, dude.” 

There’s a pause, and what sounds like a smile poking through, “thanks, Wang.” 

“Oh, it’s Sokka. You can... call me Sokka, if you want.” he can practically hear Katara insulting him from across the city— can feel Suki poking him between the shoulders and singing, the kissing in a tree song. “Most people do, now.” 

“Alright, Sokka.” 

It’s the first time that Sokka wishes he could see the guy’s face— and he knows it won’t be the last. It doesn’t really matter though, the warmth radiates through the screen with ease.

* * *

“Hey, Sokka— my friend is kind of new in town. Is it cool if I bring him to a couple of movie nights?” Sokka nods absently, not bothering to look up from his phone.

Because on his phone, is his conversation with Blue, on the paper Sokka is writing for his capstone project, “sure, you already know that if you trust them, it’s fine with me.”

“Epic, I’ll let him know. Friday, and then again two weeks from today, right?” She sighs, setting her laptop on the coffee table to stretch out on the couch.

“Yeah.” Sokka confirms, clicking his phone off before adjusting his head against the pillow. “What’d you say his name was again?”

“I didn’t— it’s Zuko. I think you’ll get along well.” There’s something twinkling in her eyes— and Sokka is so close to taking a blissful nap that he is not going to crack open that can of worms right now.

“Aren’t you going to tell Blue you’re taking a nap?” Suki teases softly, and in response, he snatches up one of the tragic throw pillows that Katara made him buy— and yeets it at Suki’s face.

It misses her, and gets thrown back at him twice as hard. He never learns not to throw things at Suki, and even if he does learn, that won’t stop him from trying to bully his best friend in the fun way.

He’ll never tell Suki, but he does end up sending a goodnight (good nap?) text to Blue. 

* * *

_**sokka:** _

_ i’m falling asleep.  _

_ if you get any weird texts— suki did it.  _

**_ blue:  _ **

_ that’s sounds...  _

_ vaguely threatening (?) _

_ have a nice nap!! _

_** sokka: ** _

_ :)  _

**_ blue:  _ **

_ :) _

* * *

Sokka stirs awake a couple hours later, after the light has faded from the sky and he’s squinting at his phone trying to figure out what year he slept until. 

Suki’s sprawled out across from him, laying under an old pokémon covered duvet. He really loves that duvet— and misses Gran-gran. 

He scrawls down a note to call her soon, wiping a sleeve over his mouth and pulling the black elastic from his hair with a yawn. 

Soup, he thinks, popping open the pantry door as he crouches down to see what goods he’s recently stocked up on. Begrudgingly, he realises there is no soup— only pain. 

Glaring at his cupboard, he sends a quick text to Suki’s phone saying he’s picking up some necessary snacks and soup. He tacks on a little reminder that if she wants anything when she wakes up, she should text him. 

Sokka slides into his silly little Subaru because,  of course, he does. He slips his seatbelt on, because he is not trying to die, and pulls some sunglasses on. The quiet hum of ~~Blue’s music~~ Machine Gun Kelly (yeah, that’s it, he’s not obsessed with his friend’s music, heh).

In hindsight— he really should’ve thought about the fact that he was wearing a pair of ratty joggers, an old hockey sweatshirt, and a pair of running shoes, because it seems like the entire twitch community chose today to stop at Target.

He pulls his hair back, taking as many pictures as he can before a very tired looking employee — who definitely deserves to be paid more— tells the gaggle of fans that they should let Sokka shop (and also that he is making it very hard to travel through the juice section).

He mouths a quiet “sorry”, carrying on as he tries to ignore the lingering people that follow (albeit, a bit creepily). It’s not until he’s intensely studying the difference between two cans of soup— childhood habits of frugality instilled making the decision between Campbell’s and Our Family far more intense than it needs to be.

But then, a pair of well-worn black converse catch on the heels of his vans. On instinct, Sokka reaches an arm out to steady himself and the person before him.

The man’s hand drops from Sokka’s grasp like he’s been burned.

“Oh! Shit, man, you okay?” Sokka checks the floor to make sure he didn’t break any cans.

“Sorry, excuse me.” The voice is raspy, and quiet, and rushed. The warmth the voice brings disappears along with its corporal form. 

And it’s only as Sokka realises this dude has absolutely booked it, that it dawns on him that he _knows_ that voice. 

Because that was Blue’s voice— and Blue told him he was from Caldera, Texas— which is a whole forever and a half away from Ba Sing Se, New York.

Blue, one of Sokka’s closest friends, had seen him— and sprinted away immediately after. 

And when Sokka casts a look down the aisle, he begins to understand why. 

Blue wants anonymity, and the hoard of teens staring at him is not exactly the best way to remain faceless. 

Moments later, his phone vibrates with a quiet text alert. He expects a request for some random flavour of Kombucha or sweet tea for Suki, or maybe for the butter snap pretzels she loves (that are already definitely in his basket).

Instead, Blue’s name lights up the screen.

* * *

_**blue:** _

_sorry about that, buddy. i had a nice trip, maybe we can meet up next fall._

* * *

So yeah, Sokka’s going to go dig his way into a shallow grave, pass away respectfully, and then maybe resurrect for this weeks episode of Ghost Adventures. Because that’s the sane, and only right thing to do in this situation. 

He’s totally fine— it was a just, a happy coincidence, and a taste of happenstance.

* * *

Life, for once, is fan-fucking-tastic. That is not satire, sarcasm, or sardonic speech. Sokka has had his first ever strawberry daiquiri, which in itself is fucking epic— and to top it off? Yue made a cheese and meat charcuterie board because she is a cool kid™ like that, and clearly wants to see Sokka thrive.

“Do you want another drink?” Sokka turns to see Aang hovering at the fridge with a carton of strawberries in his hand, grinning back at him.

“I’m okay,” Sokka smiles, “this is really good though. Thank you!”

Aang beams, and if Katara doesn’t marry this kid— Sokka might have to. Food is the way into Sokka’s heart, and Aang also made some rad baked mac and cheese that is going to live rent free in his head until forever.

“Where’s Suki?” Katara asks, sitting on one of the less questionable stools with a can of La Croix in her hand— ah, yes, his sister who enjoys the delectable taste of diluted battery acid.

“I think she’s bringing a friend— Zuko?” Sokka pushes a few strands of hair from his eyes, leaning against the counter with his water glass. “She seemed to think we’d like him too. He’s... new in town, I think?”

“Oh, right.” Katara hums, sipping on her drink as the front door opens. As if on cue, Suki calls a greeting, slipping her shoes off at the front door as she talks with the person next to her.

“Hey!” She chirps to the room, holding up a quiet fist in lieu of an actual greeting to Sokka. Fist bumps are their love language. Their weird little ‘I’m dating my ex-boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend type best’.

Toph pipes up from the couch, “did you say you were bringing, Sparky?”

“Yeah, he texted me saying he took an accidental nap and was running late.”

“Thank God,” Toph mutters, running her hands down her guide dog’s fur. “The dude never sleeps.”

Suki snorts into her glass, and they lapse into a quiet lull for a period of time— and then there’s a knock at the door.

Suki reappears with cute coffee shop boy, and Sokka’s head goes completely empty. Across from him, he watches Zuko blanch— and distantly he files that one away for later.

But for now? All he can think is pretty boy. Pretty boy here. Oh boy. Like, zoinks, Scoob.

“Zuko lost his voice....” she hesitates in a very non-Suki way, looking him up and down before smiling awkwardly. “At a soccer game. Anyways— um, this is Zuko. Zuko, everyone.”

The guy doesn’t speak a word all night, and Sokka desperately tries to keep his eyes off of Zuko after his head dips against Toph’s shoulder halfway through.

Sokka does not see the black converse at the door— and Sokka does not question the way he wakes up on the couch with a blanket over him, and a note with Katara’s handwriting on it.

He doesn’t think about the guy that practically felt like a fever dream, and he does not think about the text that he wakes up to from Blue.

Not once. Not Sokka. 


End file.
